


In Sorrow and In Joy

by Nativestar



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Jack Dalton lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nativestar/pseuds/Nativestar
Summary: Jack returns.  Set post 5x05 but this was written before it aired so no direct spoilers apart from the one we all saw coming.
Comments: 25
Kudos: 63





	In Sorrow and In Joy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the title help, Pandi!

No doubt about it, the kid looked exhausted. Mac was stretched out on his side on the sofa and Jack knew the shadows under his eyes were not caused by the pre-dawn light seeping into the room.

He looked older too, old enough that he probably shouldn’t call him a kid any more. He was after all, no longer a twenty something, but Jack had a feeling that would be a habit that would be hard to break. Mac would always be his kid. Just like Riley.

He wondered when Mac had last gotten a full nights sleep. He didn’t even hear Jack’s heavy footsteps approach. Jack had tried to be quiet but not so much that Mac would think he was an intruder. Plus he was plenty tired himself. Too tired to be stealthy anyway. From the look of it though, Mac’d had help sleeping. Jack’s eyes slid down to the space on the floor that was occupied by four empty beer bottles and he frowned. Mac knew the rules on drinking alone.

Number one: Don’t

Number two: Call someone to join you.

And he knew for a fact that the house was empty. No one here but Mac who’d left himself open and vulnerable. The door hadn’t even been locked. What if he’d been Murdoc? Or any one of their countless enemies who’d put bounties on their heads?

Mac shifted, turning his face into the sofa’s cushion, sucking in a deeper breath that he released on a sigh. His arms were wrapped around himself, hands tucked under to keep warm. The t-shirt he was wearing had gotten bunched up around him, leaving a gap of skin across the small of his back.

There was a throw on the back of the armchair and Jack picked it up, letting it fall open and draped it across Mac, resisting the urge to correct the t-shirt lest he wake him. Mac didn’t look warm. Or comfortable. But sleep was a precious thing and something that he wouldn’t return to if he woke now. Jack could wait. This day had been a long time coming, what was a few more hours?

He crouched next to the sofa, wincing silently as his body creaked with protest and aches. Up close he could see the near invisible tear tracks on Mac’s face and his heart broke for his boy. _It_ _was_ _necessary,_ his brain told his heart, just like it had every minute of every hour since he’d made that decision. And it had made no difference. It had still felt wrong, because it _was_ wrong. Mac had lost so many people he’d loved adding to that even for a brief period had hurt. Because Jack knew better than anyone how much _more_ it would hurt Mac.

Mac moved again, a hand escaping the warmth of his self-hug to grasp the throw and pull it tighter around him. He obviously wasn’t as deeply asleep as Jack had thought as bleary eyes opened and focused on the man squatting opposite him. He flinched back slightly and froze, like a deer in a headlight. Silent, as if he didn’t want to break a spell.

“Hey, hoss.” Jack said with a tentative smile. Even in the dim light, he could see the tears welling in Mac’s eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, pal.”

Jack apologised, his voice breaking and hoping that Mac would say something. He was rigid, clenching his jaw and Jack swore he was going to start vibrating from the tension. He wasn’t even sure he was breathing. A tear fell, first one, then two, and Mac opened his mouth like he was going to say something but then stalled as if he had no idea what to say.

“I’m real, kiddo. I’m really here.”

Smiling sadly, Jack reached up and brushed his hand through Mac’s hair. Tender and gentle. Like when he was pulling Mac out of the type of nightmare that could be heard through the walls or when he was so drugged up in medical he wasn’t sure which way was up and needed grounding. Mac wasn’t usually a tactile kinda guy but there were times when Jack could pour so much more into his touch than he could with his words. Mac all but melted into the touch, turning his head into Jack’s hand and closing his eyes.

Then his face scrunched up the second before Jack felt the punch from his fist that sent him to his backside on the floor. With Mac lying on his side, there wasn’t much force behind the hit, but it was enough and Jack’s face stung mildly.

“You died!” Mac shouted as he kicked off the throw and stood. “You stupid son of a bitch! You weren’t supposed to die. Not without---”

Jack had barely got to his feet when he was attacked again, not with a punch this time but with Mac’s whole body, as he threw himself at Jack and engulfed him in a hug.

“You died.” Mac whispered.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, pal.” Jack replied, and quietly repeated a constant litany of apologies as he held on tight, cupping Mac’s head and feeling him shudder with the release of grief and relief. Jack’s own eyes bright with tears as he realised how just long he’d been waiting to do this.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, holding on to each other but Jack felt like it was probably a record breaker. Not that it mattered, he had no where else to be right now, not now that he was finally where he needed to be, and he’d stay here, holding his kid for as long as he needed to.

“Please don’t do that again.” Mac said, his voice thick and wavering as he pulled away from the hug, but stayed up close, in Jack’s personal space so that when they went to sit back on the sofa they bumped against each other. As if Mac needed these small micro touches to reassure himself that Jack really was a solid being and not the result of sleep deprivation and alcohol.

“I’m not planning to.” Jack reassured him. “In fact, I’m done. I’m out.”

“You’re quitting?” Mac asked, scrubbing his face with his hand and drying his cheeks.

“I’m _retiring._ ” Jack corrected, elbowing him playfully. “Kinda. Sorta.” He shrugged. “I’m done being a field agent. I spoke to Matty and that Russ guy, I’m going to be training our recruits, splitting my time between the academy and Phoenix.”

“You’re staying?” Mac asked softly.

“Yep.”

“For good?”

“Yeah, so next time you feel like drinking alone, you call me, alright?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows. Mac met his eyes guiltily and nodded, the last remnants of loss still hiding behind his gaze, making Jack feel guilty too. He didn’t want to make a big deal out of it _this time_ , Jack understood, maybe better than anyone the lure of finding solace in the bottom of a bottle.

“So what happened? Why’d you...” Mac paused and Jack heard the _put us through that_ in his voice before he continued, “why’d you fake your own death?”

Jack sighed. That was going to be a long and painful story.

“Matty’s gonna call the others in an hour, and ask them to meet her here, do you mind if I hold off on the explanations until then?”

“Yeah, of course.” Mac agreed readily, and Jack suspected if he’d asked for the moon right then he’d have got the same answer from Mac.

“I can’t believe you’re really here.” Mac said under his breath, as if he still thought Jack was a figment of his imagination. Jack smiled at him.

“Neither can I, bud.” He replied and put his arm around Mac’s shoulders, hoping the warm weight of it would reassure him that he was alive and _here_. They were both heading back towards emotional territory so Jack grabbed the remote, thumbing the power button. He wasn’t really interested in watching anything but they needed a distraction, a reprieve from the rollercoaster of emotions.

The TV powered up to the menu of the Die Hard Collectors Edition DVD. Mac just shrugged.

“Seemed appropriate.”

“Die Hard is always appropriate. If I _had_ died then I would have approved.”

Jack caught Mac’s wince out the corner of his eye. Yeah, okay, maybe that _had_ been too soon. Jack hit play on the remote, it had been too long since he’d last watched his favourite movie. He hoped the familiarity of it all would put them both at ease, and sure enough Mac’s head dropped down to Jack’s shoulder not half an hour later.

Jack smiled.

He was finally _home_.


End file.
